


Let Sleeping Wolves Wake

by EffingEden



Series: Grimm Insomnia [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus really hates waking up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Sleeping Wolves Wake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loki_scribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_scribe/gifts).



> Comment_fic prompt, 'Harry Potter; Remus/Sirius; Sirius has always been a terrible insomniac'

There were many good ways to be woken, and one excellent way that Remus was very fond of.

This way was not one of them.

A cold, wet nose pressed insistently into his left ear, loud snuffing sounds making sure he couldn’t sleep through the unpleasantness.

“Fuc’off, Pa’foo’. M’sleepin’. S’th’oliday.”

He lifted an arm, blindly shoving at the furred body of his housemate. The lanky dog whined piteously and retreated, his weight making the mattress roll. Remus sighed and tried to escape back to sleep – but a chill was creeping over his feet. He wiggled his toes – the sheets were gone.

“Whu-UGH!” Padfoot’s long, slick tongue laved his soles and between his toes in a dozen rapid strokes before Remus could jerk them back and kick out at the mutt. “Give _over_!” His foot landed and Sirius yelped and fell heavily off the bed.

“Moony, just hex him and shut up,” James grunted from across the room. Taking advantage of the distraction, Sirius grabbed his quilt corner and heaved, dragging it from his bed.

“Mangy bastard. Fine, fine, I’m awake. James, I’m borrowing the cloak.”

“Hex’s faster,” James slurred over Peter’s snores.

Remus stood up and shoved his feet into his shoes, then picked up a knitted jersey, not caring whose it was. The scent that washed over him as he dragged it on told him what his eyes couldn’t – it was Sirius’.

Padfoot danced up to Remus, the silvery cloak in his maw. Remus scowled and took it, draping it over his shoulders and grabbing his wand. “Why me, when James can run with you?”

The dog growled softly and nipped at his invisible ankles.

“Just because I’m soft doesn’t mean I’m not above hexing you, you know,” he hissed, then opened the cloak to let Sirius take shelter in its folds.


End file.
